


I'll be home

by prowlish



Series: 2013 Holiday-type Things [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Reunions, Wish Fulfillment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 12:30:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prowlish/pseuds/prowlish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The next Cybertronian ship that the Lost Light runs into brings several things that the crew doesn't expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll be home

On the rare occasion that the Lost Light picked up other Cybertronian signals, Ratchet couldn't help but let his attention focus single-mindedly upon the event until it was proven, for sure, that Drift wasn't among them.

This was stupid. He knew how stupid it was. Realistically he could never expect each group of Cybertronians they encountered to include Drift, or to have run across his small shuttle, and yet each time Ratchet felt hope flare fledgling wings in his spark. It only ended in crushing disappointment every time, and First Aid thankfully pretended not to know why Ratchet became so moody after meeting with their scattered brethren each time. 

_Idiotic._

This time, when Rodimus's voice came over the ship-wide communications (Ratchet hated how often the stupid kid used that thing, if only because he tended to prattle about the most insignificant things sometimes), Ratchet tried very hard to ignore it. Yet his hands paused in reassembling a medibay tool -- he really wondered if it was worth it convincing Whirl to come in for his checkup sometimes -- and curled into fists, as though trying physically to crush the doomed hope that already slithered into its grasp around his spark. 

_Dammit._

But the medic ended up thankful for Rodimus's prattle over the speakers this time, because his audios caught the name _Grimlock_ and all other thoughts were swept away. Grimlock? Surely Rodimus was joking! Or he had imbibed too much engex. Again. 

No, he refused to believe it until First Aid stuttered his way excitedly through telling him that their next guest in the medibay would indeed be Grimlock. "What the _frag_ kind of bizarro-space does this ship fly through?" Ratchet growled. In fact, he still didn't think he believed it, until he set optics on the larger-than-life mech himself.

What a day.

\---

By the time all the fuss was over -- Grimlock had refused to calm down enough for him or First Aid to look at him until one of the Decepticons who had been on board the ship was present, and trying to figure out what the slag had happened to him in the first place was an undertaking in and of itself -- four cycles had passed. One of those cycles had been entirely spent convincing Ultra Magnus to let Grimlock's... friend (Ratchet hesitated to use the word _handler_ , though in Grimlock's state...) out of the brig. And the last half-cycle was dedicated to Ultra Magnus, Rodimus, and First Aid debating one where Grimlock and the mech -- Filament? Ferculum? Fulcrum? something like that -- would spend the night cycle, until Ratchet put the whole thing to an end by yelling for _everyone_ to clear out of the medbay. Including First Aid -- Ratchet was still CMO yet. 

Now it was finally quiet, just as Ratchet had wanted, and not wanted. Still, he supposed at least being alone with the hollow disappointment in his spark was better. No one to attempt to worry over him. Maybe he would even leave the medibay just long enough to grab a drink at Swerve's. Maybe then he could get his stupid spark to shut the frag up.

Ratchet grunted and scowled, slamming shut the box of tools he'd been recalibrating. He heard a soft chuckle behind him and jumped, curses already on his glossa for whoever had dared to slip in or remain behind when he'd said to _get out_ \-- but they died before they passed his lips as he turned to see familiar bright white plating. Drift simply grinned at him -- like he was supposed to have been there all along, or like he wasn't simply a figment of Ratchet's imagination. Even if so, the medic was having a hard time picking his jaw up off the floor. "Shouldn't you be more careful with such delicate tools?"

Ratchet scowled again and leveled a finger at Drift. Imaginary Drift. Whoever he was. "Don't fragging talk to me," he said. "If I'm old and defunct enough that I fell into recharge while just sitting here messing with this slag, then when I wake up I need to have First Aid go on and relieve me as CMO."

Drift simply laughed again, which infuriated Ratchet, real or imaginary. "You're not asleep, Ratchet," he finally said, stepping closer to the medic. "I was on board the ship with Fulcrum and the others."

Ratchet barked out a laugh. "Please," he said. "If you had been, you would've been an irritant under my plating long before now." Drift leaned against the desk next to him and Ratchet had to admit, he looked real enough to touch. Ratchet could even see his reflection in the high gloss of Drift's paint... 

"Maybe I decided to wait until the excitement was over," he replied, leaning his chin in a palm.

"And why would you do that? I thought excitement was your middle name," Ratchet retorted. Drift let out a little snort of laughter, and Ratchet thought it couldn't hurt to treasure the glimmer of a dream's optics.

"There's such loneliness in your aura, Ratchet."

Ratchet rolled his optics, and on instinct went to slap the mech's shoulder. He found it startlingly solid. Drift caught his hand before it slipped away, and that was a pretty convincing feeling, too. It couldn't really be... "You are so full of scrap."

Drift grinned. "How can I help myself when you implied that you've been dreaming about me?" he added softly, mischief briefly overtaking his attempts at serenity. Ratchet snorted, but he couldn't exactly deny it, and he didn't push Drift away when the kid -- and for now, Ratchet was accepting that he really was there -- leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Frag off," he muttered, before pulling Drift down for a _proper_ kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> so one night i was very sleepy and drunk on my newfound love for Drift/Ratchet, and I ended up thinking DRIFT WILL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS or something and then this happened. also succubii has this lovely fic in which Drift ends up rescued by the scavengers and it was such an adorable idea I wanted to play with it myself (sorry)
> 
> the first thing I ever write for this pairing and of course it's the fluffiest, gayest thing ever
> 
>  
> 
> visit me on [@prowlish](https://twitter.com/prowlish) on twitter!! :)


End file.
